Miles Apart
by alice in ponderland
Summary: As he fired a bullet into a walker, she saw pure hatred in his eyes. "You've changed." She said quietly. He looked to her, the hatred disappeared. "We've all changed, maybe I've done it more than most." Shane/OC follows season 2
1. i can feel the pressure

**i can feel the pressure**

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><p><span>PRE DESTRUCTION (D) DAY<span>

The body was male, approximately mid twenties. Had torn up clothing like he'd been ravaged by an animal. He was sprawled out on his back in a local park near the local elementary school, his head tilted slightly to his right but still looked longingly at a smartly dressed woman. Arms were to his side; a perfect dead body position. Caucasian – but that was kind of hard to tell because of the blood smeared over his face. Blond blooded hair and pale eyes stared at the early morning sky. He had a wedding ring on.

Cause of death? Seemed _to be due to blood loss._

_Why_? The woman knew the answer almost immediately. Flesh around his face, arms and chest were missing. It looked like he had been eaten by something as teeth marks were visible upon his translucent skin. There was also a lot of blood soaking into the grass, dark blood. Tar like blood. Blood that really didn't look real.

The woman stood up from her crouched position as she heard someone approaching. She hoped from her absolute core that it was going to be a superior of hers as this was her third homicide as a detective. Running something like a crime scene on her own was a daunting prospect for anyone, let alone a recently promoted detective. Instead of a proper detective however, it was the first officer upon the scene who she vaguely remembered.

"Has the witness been interviewed yet?" She tried to play unattached in every crime scene but she could never be. It was always the open eyes that looked at you like you'd ruined everything that scared her the most. The blood or loose murderers not so much.

"You're not gonna believe what she just told me actually." The officer in question had dark hair, darker eyes. He also had a boxer's nose. Alongside all of this, anxiety twisted his expression into one of pure worry.

She walked away from the body and back towards the road, he followed. "Humour me." She stated dryly.

"The victim and his wife were out jogging. Another guy ran up to the victim and jumped on him." He paused for dramatic effect or something else along those lines. "Started biting him. Wife starts screaming, and she gets bit too, but after running away she loses sight of the man. Then she goes back to her husband and the guy is _eating_ him."

She was silent, not for dramatic effect but in shock as she tried to take this in. It wasn't everyday that being hungry was the cause of murder. "Are you being serious?"

The officer nodded. "I am."

It made a logical argument, and that combined with the bite marks seemed to point in that sort of direction. It was hard to believe however that _cannibalism_ was still around in this day and age. Stranger things were yet to happen to her though. "What happened to the man was eating the victim?"

"When the wife went to call the police she had to go home." He sighed. "When she came back he was gone."

She stopped as she got to the road itself, looking for a sign of the forensics van. It hadn't arrived yet. There was a small crowd of people a hundred metres down the road on the other side of the crime scene tape anxiously trying to get a glimpse of what happened. _No way_ did they want to know the full details.

The detective looked over to the ambulance, an even younger woman inside was just leaving; her hand was bandaged yet still bleeding through at an alarming rate for just a simple bite. She took one look across the park at her husband's body and she started crying. Not just normal crying though. She placed both hands to her face and wailed. She wailed for death, shouting through her tears; "Why can't that be me?"

Then the strangest thing happened.

Out of nowhere a man came hobbling along came up to the woman wailing for an end and went for her throat, nuzzling her hands from her face. She tried to push him away but he already had a hold – with his teeth – around her neck like a dog with a chew toy.

"What the f-" The detective began before she was cut off.

The wife of the victim had her oesophagus pulled out in a bloody mess. She collapsed onto the floor and the man went with her, tearing flesh from her face like an animal.

There were various cries of 'Police stop what you're doing!' and guns were pulled out and aimed towards the murderous man. He started to look vacantly at the few officers and the detective upon the scene. The detective felt physically sick, and in such a state of shock she couldn't pull her gun out. Usually she was used to seeing the worst looking dead bodies possible. The lights were on in that man's mind but no-one was home.

More quickly than she expected, the officer that stood next to her shot the man through the head, sparing little hesitation like he didn't care about the consequences. The bullet hit the cannibal square in the forehead and he slumped over the woman. She wasn't moving.

They ran to her, and when they got to her body it became apparent the woman who had her throat pulled out was dead. The paramedics rushed over but even they could tell that there was nothing they could do. The female victim's tear streaked face stared at the detective like she had failed her. The detective in question shifted her gaze to the thing that had tried to eat her; its mouth was filled greedily with her flesh. The familiar coppery smell of blood started to worm its way throughout the area and into the stomachs of all of the nearby officers. She was pulled by her shoulder, but she was so shocked at the sight laid out before her, her eyes didn't move from the bodies. There was an air of disbelief right then, an air of bemusement even.

"Let's move you away for a second Detective." It was the officer who had informed her of the circumstances of the man's death earlier. He was trying to sooth her, with one arm around her shoulders, but when she eventually saw his face he looked pale like he was going to throw up at any minute. He probably needed the soothing more than her.

He sat her in the front passenger seat of a police cruiser, her body perched on the edge whilst facing the crime scene in the distance. He had to lean against the cruiser in some attempt to make himself look like her wasn't fazed by what he saw; his hands against the back passenger window and his head looking at the floor.

"Thanks for that, Officer...?"

He looked her way. "Walsh. Shane Walsh." They were silent for a while before Officer Walsh stood up straight, clearing his throat. "You're not from the local force are you?"

She looked at him, blinking a few times to try and comprehend his question. "No, I was drafted in from Atlanta PD. Seems like most people are ill recently."

"What did you say your name was again?"

She sighed. "Hope Finley."

"How long you been on the force?"

It was small talk, but it was somehow comforting to her. She needed comfort at that point to know that she had done the right thing by joining the law enforcement career. "About six years I think."

"Worked hard to get where you are?"

Hope sniggered. "I did so much overtime I thought the force would refuse to pay me."

"Working overtime ain't an easy thing. Shows that you're dedicated." He smiled lightly before he pointed to her left hand. "Your husband mind?"

She looked at the plain gold band ring before she took it off and put it on the other hand. "I don't have one, or anyone in that respect. It usually goes on a chain but I was in a rush when I got the call." Her eyes shifted from the ring to up at him. "It's meant to bring me luck, or has done. Not today though. Today is bad."

He nodded. "Today has been bad. Bad and weird."

A cell phone went off, a generic ring tone for a generic phone. Hope pulled it from the pocket of her pants. "Detective Finley here."

"Ah, Finley." It was the voice of the head of Homicide Andy Hopkins. "I heard what just happened from the officers on scene."

Detective Hopkins was a clinically obese man who waddled like a penguin when in a hurry. He didn't like to go to scenes and did paperwork in the office almost all the time. He had a habit of lightening up dire and horrific situations with jokes, and luckily didn't go any tell any of the families that their relatives were dead. That was Hope's job. The one thing she respected about him was that he earned his job through brains and determination; something that some of her colleagues failed to have.

"Ah. I sorry it happened like that sir. I didn't know that the murderer was still on site."

"It's not your fault." He didn't sound sure, his voice sounded wobbly like he knew something but wasn't going to say. "Listen, you need to keep an eye out for a van from the CDC, they'll be taking the bodies for testing, not forensics."

"What? Why?"

"Orders from the big man. He wouldn't tell me the exact reasoning other than they just need to be tested."

She paused again. "Right, OK. I'll keep an eye out."

"Keep safe Finley."

"You too sir."

They hung up and she put her phone away. Officer Walsh was looking at her and she met his gaze with a half hearted smile. "The CDC is taking the bodies for testing."

He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"I don't know the details. But just make sure the officers know to let the CDC van in OK?"

"Yes Detective." She didn't know if he was mocking her or not with her response, but apart from that he seemed to be a useful carrier pigeon.

"Also," Hope stood up just as he turned to walk away. He turned back to her with something in his eyes, "you seemed to be pretty trigger happy back there."

He tore his eyes to the floor before he looked at her. He was squinting slightly, maybe in reluctance in divulging any sort of information. "I-my friend, a Sherriff's deputy got shot because we weren't aware. I wasn't prepared to take any chances in that thing killing anyone, it's bad enough that the woman died."

She had heard about this incident, it used in the force as a way of saying 'DON'T BE LAZY, KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN'. "I'm sorry to hear that Officer Walsh." There was an awkward pause as she thought of something to say. "I'm gonna go take another look at the first deceased male. What was his name?"

"James O'Connell."

She paused again. "And his wife?"

"Mary O'Connell."

Hope half walked away, stopping short as she remembered something. "Try and find their relatives for me? I'll go and see them in a few minutes."

"Will do."

She nodded her head slightly in his direction. No way was the CDC going to take the bodies away. It was her crime scene and she wanted everything to do with solving what had pretty obviously gone on. It was her own fault that she was stubborn and sure that the bodies didn't need to go to the CDC because she thought she knew the full story, but she didn't right then.

_It's going to be warm today_, she thought as she stepped onto the dewy grass. She just wanted to stay inside and fill out forms; with the air conditioning on. The body came closer into view and when she reached him she knelt down on one knee. _At least they are together, at peace_. It was what Mrs O'Connell had asked for.

Then another strange thing happened.

The body began to breathe; the torso was rising and falling. The eyes had changed to an even paler shade of blue. It blinked, and looked at her. Its arms reached out like it wanted comfort. Of course she didn't know what the hell was going on. Hope fell back in shock, now she was sitting at its level.

It made strange noises like animals growling. "Gnnnnghhhh." It went. "Gnnnnnnnraaaaaaaa."

It sat up quickly, its arms still reaching out to her. It was shuffling in her direction and she shuffled away. In a panic her delicate hand tugged at the holster for her gun, not the actual gun itself. She couldn't look away from the thing because of its eyes. They looked so dead, so detached. They didn't even look real. Judging by that it sure as hell wasn't a proper person anymore.

Then it started to crawl, with its right hand still outstretched. She looked down at the holster for a second before it latched onto her freshly washed muddy brown hair. It pulled her back towards its face and she screamed. Its other hand latched on to some hair on the opposite side of her head and she screamed even more. There was a commotion behind her, but everything seemed to go so slow. Its mouth seemed to be chomping the air to her direction. She kept on trying to pull away but it wasn't letting go of her hair. Whatever it wanted, it was determined.

A gunshot ripped through the silent morning air once again and a bullet went into the side of its head, coming out the opposite side and most likely lodging itself in a nearby tree. Part of its brain and skull flew out too in some sort of horror movie type-of-mess. It went lifeless, its body sunk to the floor and its hands let go of her hair. The thing's arms fell onto her legs; dried blood had formed around the open bite wounds, and the fresh blood had been wiped on her smart pair of pants. She shuffled back some more to get it off of her.

"Detective Finley are you OK?" Someone asked. She thought it was Officer Walsh but everything was swaying. She felt sick to the stomach.

In an exhausted mess, she fell flat on her back, looking at the deceptively cheerful blue sky. She had never felt any more disgusting.

Officer Walsh took her hand and pulled Hope to a sitting position, his other hand on her back. "Oh man, it didn't hurt you did it?"

She shook her head in a half delirious state. "I-I'm fine."

"You're not are you?"

"I'll be fine."

"C'mon. Let's get you out of here." He gave a sympathetic look before he stood up, pulling her up with him. His grip was firm yet somehow gentle, but let go when he deemed her to be stable in standing up by myself. "I thought he was dead. The _paramedics_ thought he was dead."

"Obviously not." Hope looked back to the man lying on the floor; who had just tried to _attack_ her. "What in God's name is going on these days?"

"I wish I could answer that." He looked at her from the corner of his eye; her light brown hair was bloodied and her clothing was too.

There was a pause for a few seconds as they got to the tarmac road. Their attention turned to an oncoming van which she assumed to belong to the CDC. It was new, plain black and actually reminded her of a hearse. "You find their relatives?"

"Only the girl's parents and siblings. I told them to stay home until an officer or detective would be with them. Course since you're the only detective here it'll be a few officers." The doors of the van slammed just after it had stopped short of the bodies in the road; covered crudely by fleece blankets.

One of the men who got out of the van approached the pair. He was about 40, with stubble and no hair whatsoever. He had a well defined face, a prominent nose and small eyes and wore army camouflage gear. He also looked smug. "Detective Hope Finley?" he queried. In between this he eyed the blood in her hair and on her trousers. _She ain't got long to live._

"That's me."

"Your services are no longer required at the scene." He was authoritative yet bland when he spoke. "This is a matter of the army and the CDC, officers will be moved on when more help from the Army shows up."

She didn't believe him for a second, and when she looked at Officer Walsh he too looked surprised. "You have ID?"

The man indicated to an ID pass hanging around his neck. "Colonel Lance Depero. Now if you don't mind your presence is not required. You'll have a privacy document to sign when you get back to your office to say that you will not divulge information as to what happened here." _That is if you even get there alive. _"As will all officers and paramedics on the scene."

"What the hell?" Walsh interrupted. "You can't go around telling people they ain't needed on scene like you call all the shots."

"I have the authority to do so. Here." He pulled a piece of slightly scrunched up paper from his pocket and handed it towards him. The officer scanned it before looking at Colonel Depero with narrowed eyes.

"Is this a joke?" Walsh certainly didn't sound amused, and when Hope took the piece of paper from her comrade she wasn't laughing in the slightest.

There was the White House seal on top of the paper. "No." She heard from Depero before she started to read the text.

_I give my permission to the United States of America Army to oversee all murders from..._ The date was five days previous. Then there was an elegant signature from the President himself.

Her head shook vigorously at this piece of paper before she looked to the man who had just given it to them. "Do I have the authority to tell the victim's family that they're dead? What are they, just some sort of number to you?"

"No you do not have the _authority_. And right now this is a matter of emergency and speed more than anything." He was mocking her, and by the second she was getting even more infuriated.

She shoved the piece of paper into the Colonel's rather solid chest. "Then you will have the worst job in the world." Hope shoved past him, towards her car that she had parked within the police tape and a little further down the road.

"Wait." Walsh's voice called out to her. Hope wasn't going to, and as he realised this he grabbed onto her upper arm and pulled her back towards him. She scowled like a pissed off teenager.

"What?"

"You can't just go."

She shrugged with an air of anger. "They're our orders. You heard them didn't you?"

"I mean... not like," he looked at her hair. Her light brown locks were tainted with red, "_that_."

"Like _what_?"

He nodded towards her hair yet again. "There's blood..."

She looked down at her clothing; her blue casual buttoned blouse looked fine. Her smart pair of grey pants had smearings of blood on her thighs. She felt his grip loosen on her upper arm. "_Shit_."

"I'll take you to the station." He let go of her arm, realising how long he had kept it there. "You can have a shower. Don't suppose you got any spare clothing?"

"I've got jeans and a spare shirt if I have to do an all nighter. It'll have to do."

He nodded. "I'll get the police cruiser and you'll have to follow me to the station."

"See you there then." Walsh walked down the road to the cruiser she'd sat in earlier, and Hope walked to her European style estate car that looked expensive. Feeling the key in her pocket, she unlocked it and opened the door to get in. She sat down and slammed the door behind her before she saw in the mirror her bloodstained hair. Sickness drifted through her.

The flash of blue lights behind her drew her attention away as the cruiser went by. Walsh's profile raised a hand in her direction before the flashing lights went off. She put the keys in the ignition and turned the engine on before she followed him back to the station. A shower was just what she needed.

0-0

After having a quick word with the officer on the front desk, it was deemed to be fine to let a 'foreign' detective use the women's shower and changing room. Gratefully, it was something she knew that she desperately needed as there was no way in hell she could have driven home knowing full well that blood was caked in her hair. She rubbed the blood out with some officer's leftover shampoo, and she scrubbed her bare skin with her nails until her skin was raw. What happened had made her feel so unclean and disgusting yet she knew that nothing bad had actually happened to her. She changed into some dark jeans and another smart-casual blouse even though there was nothing wrong with her old one. It was the feeling that stayed with her as she had been wearing that when Mr O'Connell attacked her, the same went for her baggy and vaguely fashionable blazer that lay with her other clothing.

She picked up her clothing, as well as her handbag before swinging it on her shoulder. As she left the changing room she made her way into the lobby. Walsh was stood talking to another officer before the other one walked away; leaving him holding a bunch of flowers for some unknown reason.

There was a smile from him. "Feeling better?"

"Surprisingly so, actually." She returned the favour as gestured with her free hand that she was going to go outside.

"All officers were relieved from their duties at the scene. They're all back now." He noted that the woman who had appeared to be so emotionless earlier had changed into one that was more relaxed and happy. "They weren't given an explanation like we were.'

"Figures." As they walked across the lawn of the station, they came past the wire mesh gate that had been left open and into the parking lot. Hope looked at the flowers before her eyes settled on Walsh's face. "So, who's the lucky girl then?"

He looked at her with a vague smile. "They're for our injured friend that I told you about earlier. All the officers put money in and I was nominated to go and give them to him. My shift ended about an hour ago and I've known Rick since we were kids."

"I'm sure he'll love them."

"Well," Walsh looked slightly upset, his vague smile had gone, "he's in a coma. Don't think he'll see them somehow."

"Don't say that." She said quickly. As they came to her car she went to the front passenger's side, keeping an eye on the upset looking officer with some concern. She put her bag and dirty clothing down on the floor of the front seat before she shut the door and went back over. "Look, I'm really sorry. I truly am. But I can bet he'll see them when he wakes up and he'll think what great people he works with."

Maybe he was teary, she didn't really know. She couldn't exactly imagine someone like him being emotional in that way at all. "I know. It's just horrible."

Hope nodded. "I know what it's like to lose people. I understand completely." Then an idea struck her. "I'll be one minute." She went back to the passenger seat before she opened the glove box of the car. She pulled out a sticky note and a pen. In a few seconds she had scribbled her number down, and she peeled the note from the rest. Rushing, she threw the pad of notes and the pen back in the glove box and slammed it shut. Hope took it over to him. "Just in case you need to talk."

He eyed it for a second before he looked at her; her lightly tanned face showed him just how concerned she was. "Thanks, means a lot." She had a few freckles under her blue eyes, but only a few. A light coat of mascara covered her already dark lashes and there didn't seem to be a scrap of concealer or heavy make-up upon her face, not even to cover up the indistinct dark bags under her eyes. She looked normal. She looked beautiful.

"I'll see you around then Officer Walsh. Take care of yourself."

"You too."

She half smiled before she went to the driver's side, opening the door and sitting in the car. As she shut the door and put the key in the ignition, she realised that maybe she was coming away from this with a lot more than just a friend. The way he looked at her just then made her feel special.

She switched the engine on and reversed out of the space, passing him and the flowers that had been put in the boot of the cruiser. As she straightened the wheels of the car, he approached the driver's side. She rolled the window down.

"The name's Shane. Not Officer Walsh, _Detective_." He smiled at her.

"Ah," she paused as she realised his game, "and neither is mine Detective. It's Hope."

He gave her a wry smile before he nodded for her to go, and she drove back to Atlanta the same day. But she didn't stay for long. The next time she'd see him it would be a month away, or was it even more? Nevertheless, she'd see him when she thought all hope was lost.

0-0

Colonel Depero oversaw the annoying detective's crime scene with military precision. It would be a few minutes until the CDC people would be here to take the bodies away, and the National Guard were keeping an eye out on the borders between the crime scene and the even more annoying public that were trying to work out what the hell was going on. The nearby elementary school had been forced to shut because of what happened, and that had caused even more concern.

He looked in the distance at the body of a man who had been shot, just like the body of another man who lay just feet away. They had obviously tried to attack people, and had paid the price in the worst way possible. There was a part of him that didn't sympathize; they had tried to attack innocent people. There was another part that felt truly terrible for what happened to the people before they had become those _things_, whatever they were.

He looked to his watch; it was approaching half ten in the morning and it was almost a hundred degrees. No way was he looking forward to being outside for much longer.

There was a commotion, from behind him like rasping breaths and a few shouts from people at the scene. In a panic, he turned to see what was going on. The woman that was covered underneath a fleece blanket was standing up, facing his way with a smirking smile upon her face. She was soaked with blood; a chunk of her neck was missing. She charged, pushing him to the ground with force (that a surprised Depero didn't have) and she tore meat from his chest like a crazed beast.

The last thing that the smug Colonel Depero would see was Mary O'Connell chewing his flesh.


	2. this crystal ball is always cloudy

**this crystal ball is always cloudy**

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><p><span>AFTER DESTRUCTION (D) DAY<span>

_I don't know how long the motivation to live will continue. Tomorrow I could find someone who will want to stay with me. Tomorrow I could die. Siphoned some more gas this morning from the highway queues before a herd came along, the same herd that was there yesterday. I could tell because the same woman was there, she hadn't been turned long. She was young, had blond hair and with a face more suited to an elf. She looks more like something of nightmares now. I've got enough gas to get to Washington I think. If not I've got enough fuel to go as far away from here as possible. _

_I've been thinking if Grammy or Dad was here, what would they do? Can't imagine either wanting to live in this sort of situation. I'm happy they were never here to see this. I'm happy that me and Alex got out whilst we could. I miss him, and everyday as I go and gather supplies I look for him, calling his name and putting signs up on trees. I don't think I can leave Georgia without knowing what happened to him. The unknown is killing me as it always will do, it's like a parasite. Each day a bit of me dies for him. I never deserved to be the one to 'live' out of both of us. He had more years of his life left, whereas I'm a twenty eight year old who hasn't achieved anything. He achieved way more than what I could of hoped._

_I blame myself for a lot of things. He's gone because of what I said. Jane Goldman died because of me and because of what I did. I can feel her wanting me to die every day as I know I deserve it. Alex going missing is another one of those signs that this isn't a world made for me to live in. They haunt me, and this supposed new start to life that I was 'blessed' with._

_I'm gonna stop talking about him, her and the family, it's making me more (how is that even possible?) upset. I'll talk about camp instead. Camp is looking dull, just this tent and a now burnt out camp fire. I've only been here for three days and I hate it. It's safer here though, the occasional unperson attacks on the previous camp were getting worse and really I had no choice other than to leave. I feel safe here. But I wonder whether Alex will go back to the remnants of old camp expecting me there, and I won't be. If he does, then how can I ever forgive myself?_

_I cried today. I cried a lot as I walked and siphoned gas. I cried when I saw that herd and the same girl. It won't help, and I'm aware that it won't. But it's my way of coping. The last time I cried was when Dad died four years back. I cried today because I woke up and realised that no-one is going to find me. I cried today because the realisation that Alex is dead hit me. I'm going to be alone for the rest of my days staring into the faces of the unpeople before I kill them. I only kill when they're going for me. I can't bring myself to kill them otherwise. They're still vaguely human to me, even after what they do. _

_I want everything to go back to normal, I don't like this constant droning of depression that consumes every thought I have. I don't want to have to kill to survive. And I don't want to be alone. I think tomorrow I'll die with a bullet through my useless brain. I know that I'll struggle to, but its better off that way. Then the guilt won't be here. I won't be here._

Over four weeks ago, Detective Hope Finley was an optimistic person. However, there would be nothing that would prepare her for such atrocities to come in a world she thought was safe. She shut the notebook she was writing in with a loud thump before she threw it down next to her deflated looking pillow and sleeping bag. It was around five in the afternoon and the sun was still shining, yet she had resigned herself to the larger than needed tent that she lived in. She had lived there for a couple of days, travelling in the hope that she'd find someone else, and the hope that her younger brother Alex would turn up after being gone so long. It was getting lonely and incredibly dark.

It was also getting frustrating how she had to change to live. She knew that she had gained muscle but somehow lost weight. She estimated around five pounds had disappeared, but there wasn't anything to prove that. The boots that she wore were one size too big, but there was limited choice in smaller sizes from an army surplus store. There was no way ordinary shoes were going to cope because of the huge amount of walking she was going to do and it was something that she had quickly realised. The once bright blue cotton sleeveless shirt she wore had faded with the sun. Her jeans were the ones she had escaped with her life with, light blue, but verging on white washed. Her skin had tanned, a lot more than she was used to seeing and her already light brown hair had been bleached lighter. It had grown to be chest length now, which was the longest it had ever been. Hope was adamant she had to keep clean though, surviving on baby wipes to get the dirt off of her from a hard days scout. Whereas with the wavy mess that was her hair, dry shampoo could work miracles when she could be bothered to use it.

She felt so guilty at times. It coursed through every inch of her body. Hope believed it to be selfish when she wiped the grime and dirt from her skin, when she at least tried to make herself look as human as possible. She did such stupid little things when she had lived when others had died. _Children_ that deserved to live. Alex had deserved to live, and to top it all off it was her fault he'd gone anyway. There was nothing that would make her feel any better. The emptiness that rocked her core was not going to go away any time soon.

"C'mon. Let's take a walk." She talked to herself a lot now. There was no-one else to talk to, and her slow descent into madness was shown in the form of the notebook she wrote in. She stood up, before she made her way to the tent entrance, a backpack sat there next to a small arsenal of weapons. A couple of 9mm pistols, a shotgun, a scope rifle and various ammo. One of the pistols were put into the backpack, with another one going in the holster attached to the belt of her jeans. She swung the bag over her shoulder and picked up the two bigger guns and another pistol before unzipping the tent and stepping outside.

She zipped it back up before she eyed the unlit fire. She felt hungry but couldn't be bothered to eat. Hope summoned the strength to wander away from it and to a road just a little way from her camp. A smart and almost brand new European estate car was sat looking grimy and dirty. "Poor thing." She pulled the keys from her pocket before she unlocked it, heading to the trunk. She opened it and placed the larger two guns down in front of several containers. The smell of fuel hit her nose for a second before it numbed her senses and went away.

Her rucksack slid off her back and she put it in the trunk for a second as she opened it and checked its contents. She was also scatterbrained these days, Hope blamed it on the nothingness that drifted through her brain about ninety percent of the time. A small torch, a map of the area, another handgun and a few spare clips, a bottle of water, her brother's hooded top, and a packet of beef jerky. To her, the bag seemed to be full. There might have been too much stuff but that was her essentials. "Always pack too much. Just like Grammy." Talking to herself made her feel a little better, but she had a way of mentioning things that would always upset herself, as she winced at the mention of her grandmother.

She had to pull away her hands for a moment as she paused and gathered her thoughts. Her eyes prickled with tears. Hope felt so emotional when talking about family. She hadn't taken it for granted when it was there and now it was all gone. "Hang on in there. You can cry about it before you die tomorrow." She cleared her throat before she felt like she had calmed herself a little.

She zipped the rucksack back up before she put it back on her back. With her boots clomping against the tarmac, she took a step back and closed the trunk, followed by her pressing the lock button on her car. It was then the sound of the interior locking itself echoed around the empty space sandwiched between the road and the forest. That made her feel even more alone.

With a sigh she started to make her way back through 'camp' and deeper into the forest. The various leaves upon the forest floor crunched as she walked briskly. Her left hand went to her neck and twiddled the plain gold ring on a chain and unfortunately, it was a habit when she got nervous. She was nervous a lot these days, half the time she didn't know whether she was coming or going. "You're mad, _crazy_." She paused before she looked all around her. "You've probably got _anxiety_ now." She laughed to herself before the expression on her face was replaced with some sort of worry, or even sadness.

Hope's eyes welled with tears. None of this was what she wanted to happen. For a moment she stopped before she carried on walking. It only took her a few steps before she suddenly started to sob, stopping again before she leaned up against the nearest tree to her. Both of her hands covered her face and she sank to the floor in a crouched position. "I can't go on like this!" She said quietly before she moved her hands away. Her skin had become pale and patchy and her eyes were bloodshot. She was still letting the tears fall without a care as she sobbed even harder. In the previous week she had turned to faith, begging God for some sign that she wasn't going to continue on like this for forever.

This faith didn't last long, as that was when she saw one of the _unpeople_, but in a child form. It wasn't her first time seeing one like that, but this one was younger and had decayed a considerable amount. A little boy, no older than six. As she dwelled on that thought, she started to cry again. "I know I've done wrong," she let the sobs take over for a few seconds, "but just _stop_ taking it out on me!"

And then, it was like someone had finally listened to a worn out detective who was seeking some sort of guidance.

_Church bells._ The sound echoed around the whole forest. Her sobs stopped as she heard the recognisable ringing from nearby. Her eyes looked straight ahead with some alarm, as she tried to pinpoint an exact location. _People_. There were _people_. It was coming from her right and when she realised this, her head focussed on the chance that there would be someone there. There was motivation at long last to shove away the self-pity and to try and live. Hope stood up quickly, before she started to jog in the direction the bells were coming from.

She didn't have enough time to go and get her car. So she sprinted. They _couldn't_ leave her, they couldn't. She couldn't afford to be by herself for any longer. She _craved_ human contact. She craved the chance at living a proper life, not the shell of one she was currently living. _Motivation._ That's what kept her sprinting through the forest for the next two minutes, even when the bells had stopped. They started up again suddenly, and still she ran towards them. There was no rest for the wicked; she had to keep on going.

Then they suddenly cut off, like it was a sound recording and someone just decided to stop it there. It confused Hope, beyond what she could comprehend so she had to slow herself down to a walk. There was light in front of her, the trees stopped and there was a small dirt track road and a Baptist church sitting pretty and untouched. As she got a little closer, she was careful to keep in the line of trees as she wanted to stay undercover. At least for now.

Hope was panting heavily as she observed the two people she could see outside the church, maybe three. Two were talking, it looked like a dark haired man and a brown haired woman, and then sat by the side of the church was a person with blond hair. The church doors were open slightly, so that could only mean more people. She'd found a _group_! Hope smiled with pure happiness, but then she started to wonder how she could introduce herself.

There was a sudden crunch of leaves and branches behind her. She turned to see one of those _unpeople_ walking her way with a limp. A man with matted looking short hair, maybe over fifty years old. Why did she even care about that? It didn't matter now anyway. Her right hand went to her belt and felt around for something. Her eyes widened as she realised that she didn't bring her knife with her, and that meant the only weapon left was her gun.

"." It went at her, it's tattered smart shirt was stained with blood and skin had fallen away from around its mouth. It looked disgusting. It looked hungry.

She was too busy trying to work out what to do, use her gun and the people hear her or run out into the road and they see her. As soon as it stepped within five metres of her she pulled her gun from her holster and shot it through the head. It was a fact that she had practised going for her holster without looking since that close call back when everything was almost normal. A precaution, she'd called it.

It fell to the floor in front of her, and then she heard snippets of a conversation. "Was that a gunshot?" It was the brown haired woman, and soon Hope saw a trickle of people running out of the church.

A man barked back at the people there before he started to jog in her direction. "Stay here!" She thought she recognised the voice, but her instincts were telling her to run rather than to analyse.

So she did. Away from the mess she'd left behind and through the forest back the way she came, this time her pace was slower than what it had been.

"Hey!" a man snapped from behind her. Hope didn't as so much turn around, nor did she acknowledge him. The only thing she had on her mind was not being caught or being taken prisoner.

Fatigue had begun to set in and for a moment she thought everything was going to be fine. Her concentration was lax because of the fear that engulfed her. Someone was running after her and she didn't know what they were like. Would they kill her? Would they have mercy upon her?

She braved a look behind her, and she couldn't see anyone. Her chest hurt, and for a second she thought her vision went into darkness. Hope took a chance on a break as she saw a large tree up ahead, which was big enough for her to hide behind.

Her back was pressed up against it, her rucksack squashed into almost nothing. The only thing she heard was her panting.

Then there was the familiar crunch of undergrowth from the direction she had come from. It was at a walking pace. "Sophia?" The man shouted.

_Who's Sophia? _Hope didn't understand what was going on. Her heart was pounding.

"I'm not gonna hurt you!" The man called, a little less aggressive than before. Somehow it wasn't convincing. "_Dammit_." The man carried on walking forwards, past the tree Hope was hiding behind. He had a shotgun in one hand, and was covered in dirt. All she could tell about his physical appearance was that he had dark hair.

She breathed a sigh of relief as he got a little further away before she moved slowly around to the other side. Her eyes were glued to the floor as she walked away. Maybe it was better if she just went back to camp.

No, of course it wouldn't. That meant that tomorrow she'd have to die. She couldn't deal with being alone much longer. Her eyes noticed something. A pair of shoes and legs a couple of metres ahead. Then she looked up. A man, maybe in his late thirties was there clad in Sheriff's uniform, including the hat.

Her heart felt horrible again. She felt nervous and scared. The man was holding a six chamber pistol; however it was not pointed at her. She faltered for a moment as she was about to bring her own gun up to him. "I won't hurt you." He said gently.

Her eyes were wide, doe like. She was trapped.

"I'm a police officer. You have to trust me. Are you on your own?" His voice was still quiet, whispering to her.

She couldn't fathom another person talking to her, she just couldn't. So she wasn't the last person left just like she suspected. "Why should I tell you?"

"Because I'm a part of a group. We can offer you protection, a _home_. Safety in numbers, isn't that how the saying goes?"

She shook her head, dismissive of any promises. She wasn't used to this, no way was she used to it. "I haven't seen people in a long time. A very long time."

"If trust is an issue, then we can work on it." The man paused as he looked behind the woman for a second. "We need help looking for a little girl. She went missing yesterday and I'd be real appreciative if you told us any piece of information."

A _little girl_? Were these people nuts letting a kid go out on their own? "I haven't seen anyone. As I said, your group are the first people I've seen for a long time."

There was the sound of the same rhythm of footsteps behind her. She was going to turn around to look but she could look both ways. She didn't trust the man there in front of her. "What's the problem Rick?" The voice of the man behind her had entered the conversation and Hope felt even worse. It was quite obviously the man who had walked past her when she was hiding behind the tree. She could tell by his voice, the gravelly Atlanta accent. It clashed with her native softly spoken Maine voice. He was behind her, a metre away perhaps. Something in her memory stirred at the sound of his voice.

For a moment she believed that running again would be the best bet to get away. She didn't think that being afraid of people would be an issue. But she should have realised that when you're alone for so long, everything becomes a struggle. It was an uphill battle that she wasn't winning by any means.

The man known as Rick looked extremely annoyed as he looked beyond her. "There's _no_ problem."

She felt a pair of eyes stare into her body. She felt vulnerable, _exposed_. "This the culprit of the dead walker?"

_Walker_? What the hell kind of a term was that? She felt her fist clench into a ball. They were still people physically, however much they weren't mentally. She felt sorry for them, and killing one would always haunt her as she deemed it to be murder.

"You kill that walker?" Rick reiterated to her.

She nodded. "I don't know what a _walker_ is, but I killed one of those _people_."

"Those_ people_ are walkers." The man behind her said. "Why'd you run away from me?"

Her voice quivered a little as she looked to the Sheriff in front of her with pleading eyes. "I'm scared. This is the first time I've seen people in weeks! I don't know what you're going to do."

"Why are you on your own? Surely-"

"I think we need to stop interrogating her now." Rick cut in.

"Let me guess Rick, you said she could join us? We have to know whether we can trust her or not."

She sighed. "I was a detective with Atlanta PD, I think you can damn well trust me." With a pause she tried to look at the man behind her out of the corner of her eye. "I may not have proof on me but I can show you my badge back at my camp."

Her statement hung in the air for seconds, as if the two men couldn't understand what was going on. That was what caused the officer behind her to command her. "Turn around." His voice was angered slightly, perhaps even upset. She glanced to Rick in front of her who had narrowed his eyes at the person stood behind her.

"Why?" She was quiet, and the fright was still there in her voice and her eyes.

"Just turn and face me." He was demanding, so much so she felt like he was her old boss at work.

It took her a few seconds to sum up the courage to do so. When she did, she was slow on purpose because she was fearful of what he would do, whether he'd hurt her or not, she'd then have time to shoot him if need be; her finger went to the trigger of her gun just in case. She faced him with her eyes on the floor before she stole a glance to his face. However it turned into something longer. The man had a boxer's nose, with tanned skin and dark eyes that seemed empty. He was dirty, just like she was from the forest. However, there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes as he too realised that he had met her before. He almost dropped the shotgun he was holding.

"Hope?" He asked.

It was slow and painstaking as she dug out his memory from the depths of her mind. It was strange when she had resigned that part of her past to the far corner of her mind. It was even stranger to be faced with him once again, and there was only one question that she could summon: "Shane?"

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><p><em>The chapter titles are songs, they are on my profile if you want to know more. Thanks to Smartlooks, Leyshla Gisel and sheenagoesRAWR for reviewing. I was aiming for Hope to be different than the other OCs in the TWD fandom, and I hope (haha joke) that she is. We will be having flashbacks into whatever relationship Shane and her had (if any. tease much?) and all that I can say is thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, alerted and favourited! See you next week~ Alice.<em>


	3. forgotten the tastes and smells

**forgotten the tastes and smells**

**of a world that she's left behind**

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><p>One of the first things that popped into Hope's brain was to breathe. That was something she could usually do without having to think about it, it was imbedded into every human's mind. Right then however, shock had taken over her whole body, her soul. She was shocked enough she'd found a <em>person<em>, let alone a _group_. But now she'd found someone from her previous life? At this rate she'd win the lottery.

She was shaking her head; her eyes were wide with shock. The shock had rocked her so much she had to take a step back to balance herself. Her index finger on her gun's trigger was lifted, and now she was just holding it. Her attention faltered for a few seconds as she felt her heart going strange, the beats weren't all there. It was irregular, but pumping so loudly she thought it was going to tear through her chest.

"I'm not hallucinating, am I?" Shane studied her for a moment; she had lost weight, and there were cuts up and down her arms, scratches from trees probably. Her bloodshot dark blue eyes told him that she had been crying. But she hadn't changed that much appearance wise, with her wavy light brown hair that had grown to be chest length, but had been bleached a little lighter in the sunlight. Her face still retained its few freckles and small nose. He was not in a good way either; he looked vaguely emotional as he rubbed his hand over his face and hair.

"No, it's really me."

A silence hung in the air as Shane looked at her, still studying her and he completely shocked looking face. Being brutally honest, he had forgotten all about Hope. He had Lori to worry about since the world went to shit, and this remnant of his past wasn't anything to him really. Although they had only known each other for the space of a week, she had been more than willing to take his calls. She had been incredibly patient towards him, something that had helped him to 'grieve' for his injured colleague and friend. However that had been the extent of their relationship as 'D-Day' happened; the day that Atlanta went to shit, the day that made Hope and her brother run for their lives.

"You know each other?" Rick's voice cut Shane's thoughts like a knife.

"There was a murder in the town after you got shot." He paused as he looked beyond her to his friend. "Hope was dispatched from Atlanta PD because of shortages."

She looked behind her to the other officer. "To be honest I'm beyond confused about all of this. I thought that no-one else would've survived through all the chaos."

"People did. There was a large group outside Atlanta that we were a part of." Rick was trying to reassure her, comfort and coax her into joining the group.

She quickly analysed what he said. There wasn't a part of her that would stop scrutinizing what they were saying until she was satisfied. "_Was_?"

"There was a walker attack, we lost a lot of people." Rick was hesitating as he knew how bad it made the group look in that they couldn't survive something like that.

"Now we're going to Fort Benning." She turned back to Shane who was attempting to change the subject. "We're hoping for some sort of help there."

"But there's ten of us in our group." Rick said simply. "If you come back to camp with us, we can provide safety and food and water. Since the attack we've been on our guard more. We can defend ourselves and we know a lot about walkers. Besides, we need another pair of able hands to help us, especially when we're looking for a missing girl."

"It's not exactly safe if you let a little girl go missing." She retorted.

Shane let out an exasperated sigh. Since when did she get so stubborn? "You ever going to come round or shall we just leave you to it? I don't want to but it seems that you think you're better off on your own."

"I _never_ said that."

"You implied it though."

It was eerily quiet for a few seconds as Hope looked him in the eye, showing him that she was terrified of being alone. Her bloodshot eyes and her widened pupils told him everything. She blinked a couple of times and looked to the floor. "I suppose wherever I go it won't ever be a hundred percent safe." Hope was trying to think over the proposition. This was what she wanted, safety, a group and company. She didn't know why she was being so reluctant to join it. Perhaps it was the fear of the unknown, the fear of the other people in the group not trusting her or even the fear of people hurting her. Shane suddenly spoke up and so she turned back to him. "How long have you been on your own for, since the beginning?"

Hope shook her head. "Only for the past few weeks, not since the beginning." She swallowed nervously. It was incredibly strange for her to give in to people, as it was almost a foreign concept to her. She was hoping that they wouldn't pry, knowing how shook up she was through her quivering voice. Dealing with people was something that she had once been good at surprisingly enough.

"Same sort of circumstances as our group?" he queried again.

She nodded, half vacant. There was only one way that people could die when the dead roamed like hungry animals. "Similar."

The conversation was getting really awkward, Hope was still scared and the strange heartbeat in her chest was making it worse.

This time it was Rick who spoke. "So what do you say to joining our group?"

She turned her body fully to face him, her eyes looking to the floor with thought. They moved to his face. "I'll take you up on that offer; if you don't mind."

"Of course we don't mind." Shane half smiled. She barely caught it out of the corner of her eye.

Rick took a few steps closer, swapping his pistol to his left hand and outstretching his right towards her. "I'm Rick Grimes."

She eyed the hand suspiciously before her eyes looked up to his. She wanted to trust him, she really did but it seemed like an instinct to keep away and to not even make this simple form of contact with him. Hope needed to create a relationship; to build trust. If she was going to join this group then she needed to have a powerful ally like this _Rick Grimes_. She swapped the Beretta to her left hand before she outstretched her right towards his. When they actually shook hands, it was a firm shake; something that threw Rick off guard. He hadn't expected her delicate looking hands to be so strong.

"Hope Finley." It was a whisper, perhaps through fright or whatever emotion she was feeling. She pulled her hand away quickly. Human contact felt _good_.

"What about me?" Shane questioned with a playful tone to his voice.

She turned back around and gave him a weak smile. "I already know you."

"I know, just joking." He smiled, but it was the sort of smile that made her worried. It was a smile that promised a dangerous road ahead. "The group will be wary at first. They'll warm to you if you help out. C'mon, they'll be wondering where the hell we got to." He walked past her and led the way back to the church. Rick glanced at her briefly, perhaps wanting to know whether she was going to come with them or not.

But she was entranced for a second, as she thought someone was there, a little further into the woods looking at her. _Must be the heat talking, or showing me random shit_. She hadn't eaten or drank since the morning, a potentially lethal thing to do which the Georgian summers were stiflingly hot. She turned away to face Rick with a tiny smile and put her Beretta back in its holster before he too started to walk, followed by her. She kept behind the two men as they left the clearing and ended up in the graveyard next to the small Baptist church. Hope was careful as she negotiated through the gravestones and plots like she had some sort of respect left for the dead; however much they killed and behaved like wild animals. Absent-mindedly she put her Beretta in the holster as she figured brandishing a fun whilst meeting a new group of people wasn't probably the way to go. Her eyes moved to the church itself where she spotted the small group filtering out of the church and under a tree fairly near to it. She stopped walking; Hope felt unnerved by the looks they were all giving her.

Shane turned around, and so did Rick when they heard the crunch of the undergrowth stop all of a sudden. "You OK?" The earlier asked.

"I don't think I can do this." Her voice was quiet and barely reached a whisper.

He certainly wasn't used to comforting people, but perhaps it was what she needed. Her old friend came over to her and tried to look her in the eye but she was too focussed on the ground. Shane didn't like her being this vacant and quiet. "Of course you can Hope. I won't let them say anything bad about you because I know you don't deserve it. You're a good person."

She looked up at him and realised that there was barely a few paces between them. It was too close for comfort. She silently disagreed with him but said nothing to indicate that. "Whatever you say."

He backed off a bit, trying to work her out. She had changed a lot, too much for what he liked. Actually using his skills as an officer, Shane realised that something must have happened for her to turn into this withdrawn and nervous person. In his previous life he'd dealt with shocked or mentally unstable people before; and it was something that he didn't want his friend to have. With a light smile, he turned and started to walk towards the group of people, closely followed by Rick. She sighed before she also joined them, keeping a small amount of space between them like she needed to be guided over the hundred metres separating the two groups.

"False alarm. Wasn't a looter or someone dangerous to us." Rick announced as he got there as if there wasn't another person to add to the group or anything. He may as well have given Hope an invisibility cloak. He was trying to act as if everything was completely normal.

"Who's _she_?" A blonde haired woman asked with venom, _almost_. It threw Hope a little bit as she wasn't expecting such a violent reaction.

Shane smirked at the woman before turning back to Hope with a smile of reassurance. "Hope here, I knew before all this. She was a detective with Atlanta police department. And before you ask," he looked back at the group, "she ain't seen or heard anything about Sophia."

"So that's it? We jus` let her into our group?" A man who wielded a crossbow exclaimed with pure distaste. There was something about him that she recognised. The voice, the face, she'd met him before somewhere. However she didn't really care about him right then as he was going to stand there and get pissy at her. She had no time for people like that.

"We can trust her." Rick said, using his hands to gesture. "She ain't gonna hurt us."

A small and frail looking woman at the front of the group was looking at Hope oddly before her gaze returned to Rick before she spoke with an equally small and frail voice. "What if she is like Jenner?"

There was a silence as if the woman had uttered a bad word. Several of the group gave quick glances to the blonde haired woman before they were interrupted by Shane. "She ain't like that. Y'all need to calm down and trust me."

"That's the thing though." It was the crossbow redneck again. "You're askin` us to trust someone new and that we've never met before. Sure, Shane knows her, but what the hell? People change."

"Yeah but we might not know her, but if Rick and Shane thought she was like Jenner they wouldn't have brought her to us." It was an Asian guy, Korean possibly? He looked like he'd just finally become a man if Hope was being honest to herself. "Besides, aren't cops meant to know if people are _unhinged_ or whatever?"

Sensing that Hope was probably getting upset with how the group was portraying her, Shane decided to step in again. There was no way they were going to rip her to shreds when she was standing there taking it all in. "How about this," he began, "y'all follow the creek back to camp. Daryl you're in charge and me, Rick and Hope will hang back for an hour or so just to be thorough. If all three of us come back alive then we know she ain't like Jenner. If we feel that she's a danger then we won't let her come back to camp with us."

The crossbow redneck (assumed to be Daryl) was the first to speak. "Splittin` us up, you sure? Especially with walkers around."

"Yeah; then y'all know that you can trust Hope and we'll get some time to look for Sophia." Shane paused before he looked back at Hope who nodded her head lightly in agreement. When he looked to Rick, he too nodded his support. "We'll catch up to you."

Then suddenly a kid piped up as if things couldn't be any better right then. Hope noted that his docile nature of the situation around his was reflected in his age and appearance; pale skin, lots of freckles and a small slightly pudgy face. Hope felt a whole lot more distressed than she already was just looking at him. "I want to stay too." The two men standing in front of her shifted uncomfortably as the kid paused. "I'm her friend."

A brown haired woman went over to the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was then that Hope realised that she was the woman who was talking to Shane earlier outside the church before she shot the _walker_ (or whatever they called them). "With all due respect to you Hope, I don't think this is a good idea."

Rick sighed. "Lori, its fine she's trained how to use firearms and Shane knows her. He obviously trusts her."

"With all due respect to you, not everyone who is still alive is a psycho." Hope's voice tore through the conversation. She was hurt by the misconceptions that everyone seemed to have about her, and she wasn't thinking properly. She was more concerned with her irregular heartbeat and making sure her point got across. With deep breath Hope took a few steps forward before she was stood next to Shane and closer to the group of people. "I will do whatever it takes to keep your son, Rick and Shane alive because this is what human beings do. These men offered me a place in a group, and I think that deserves a return of a favour." She stopped herself from adding _bitch_ to the end. That probably wouldn't have been that helpful in Hope's quest of finding a safe group to be with.

Lori looked to Rick, then to the boy before she gave Hope the once over. She sighed before she held eye contact with her. "I'll hold you to your word." She pulled the boy into a motherly hug and planted a kiss on top of his head. As the kid moved away, embarrassed by Love and the Happy Feelings Rick also went over. Hope then realised that they were husband and wife as they gave each other a quick kiss and a hug, but the woman's eyes briefly looked to Shane, then to the floor.

Shane's demeanour next to her changed when this happened, he turned away for a second. Being a detective had its perks, she knew people and she knew what certain looks and behaviour meant.

"You OK?" Hope asked him with a hushed voice.

"I'm fine, never better." He sounded bitter, resentful almost. He didn't even look at her; just straight ahead into the distance.

_Liar._ "You're obviously not."

He looked at her. "Things have got a hell of a lot more complicated since the world went to shit. Besides, I don't exactly know you anymore. I can't confide in you like that."

Again, she felt hurt. Seemed like these remarks just kept on coming at her like she shouldn't have been there. "Who can you confide in then that isn't me?"

"No-one."

She underestimated what his answer would be, and in a way was surprised. Before she could at least try to reply Rick started to walk over as the others moved off to wherever their camp was. "Give me a minute?" he said before he walked into the church. His determined looking face made it seem as if he was a man on a mission.

His son walked over to the pair and Shane turned around and shot him a weak smile. He outstretched a tanned arm and hand before he placed it on the boy's head before ruffling his hair. He was looking at the boy as if he was his own; he blatantly wasn't. "This is Carl, Rick and Lori's son."

The kid smiled vaguely at her as his introduction but she could tell that he was nervous about being anywhere near her. "Hey there." Hope said softly. She had also been good with children, once. As a homicide detective she had to interview many. It had been a harsh world for kids, and it'd been even harder recently.

Carl didn't say anything, so it was left to Shane to break the silence. "Did you really mean what you said back there?"

She was surprised by the sudden change in the conversation, and as Shane guided Carl to the front steps of the church, she lagged behind a little. "It's the least I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything. You don't owe any of us anything." Carl sat down next to one of the hand rails on quite a low step, and Shane sat next to him. The kids slipped an adult's rucksack from his back and Shane pulled it towards his feet.

"I owe you for saving my life back on the day we met, as well as for letting me into the group." She leant on the banister furthest from the pair before she pulled the rucksack from her back. She took a water bottle out and uncapped it, taking a swig of the warm liquid. The heat was slowly dying down, and did she need a drink right then.

"I was just doing my job, and the group thing," he paused, "we didn't want to leave you there. On your own too."

"Yeah well," She sighed before she took another swig of her water. "I want to keep everyone alive. I don't want any people dying for no reason. We've survived for a reason so I don't see why it should stop here."

"That's a good point to make." Shane conceded. He decided though to change the conversation onto something more positive than what it was heading into, especially with a cheerfully optimistic kid around. "You not realised yet?"

Hope was putting away her water bottle into her bag when Shane had started to talk again. Before she replied she zipped it up and put it back around her shoulders. "Realised what?"

Shane smirked as he had the upper hand. Information that would remind her of the time they met; a better and happier time. "Who Rick is."

She was silent as she tried to rack her brain for whatever she was trying to find. _Rick_, the name rung a bell. A very distant one, but it was so far back into her memory it was consigned to be lost along with that life she had held on to so dearly. It was something that Shane had mentioned on the day they met. The parking lot behind the police station, the flowers, her number on a sticky note. She had found it and she looked at him, blue eyes against dark brown. A very dark brown. She felt under the microscope slightly as it became apparent he had been watching her think and she felt a little bit of colour go to her cheeks. "Rick's the guy who got shot?" She exclaimed.

He chuckled, happy that she remembered. It also amused him that the seriousness of searching for and remembering a fact altered her face, turning the corners of her lips down slightly in annoyance and her eyes seemed to gloss over. However when he formulated a reply his tone was a little darker and fake. "Yeah, was a bit of a surprise when he came to camp one day."

Hope took in the tone before she looked to Carl who was smiling like he was the proud father. She couldn't help but to smile too; at least something positive had come out of this mess. "Your dad sure is tough huh?"

He nodded with a smile on his face. "Sometimes I wonder how he does it."

"I think we all do bud." Shane replied before the small group's attention turned to Rick as he came out on the church. "You got what you were looking for?"

Rick didn't stop, not even to acknowledge them. "I guess we'll find out."

Shane looked to Carl, patting his shoulder before the two stood up; he also took the bag that Carl had once been carrying and his shotgun. Hope waited for them before they all set off the follow Rick. As they trekked across the graveyard, a rather fitting silence filled the group. Hope kept at the tail end, making sure that Rick's son kept in the middle. A mother's fury was the worst kind of angry that a human could face; she remembered the angry and distraught mothers when they had been told their children had died. They implied that there was a mix up, or that their children had never been involved with drugs or dealings and therefore they couldn't have been the ones of the mortuary slabs. It was one of the pitfalls of the job that had been her childhood dream.

Every now and again she'd look around to make sure nothing was following them. However a few times that she turned back to the front of the group, Shane too was looking around at the back. They locked eyes for a second before he looked around again. Did he not fully trust her? Then again, the way he looked at Carl said that perhaps he thought of the boy as his own son. A father's wrath could also be just as bad as a mother's. Maybe at some point he could tell her what the hell was going on within the people in the group, as a lot of events had obviously happened.

A twig snapped nearby and Hope's eyes searched the area in front. The group came to a standstill as Rick put his hand up. Hope reached for her gun and pulled it from the holster before she readied her finger on the trigger. Ahead between some trees she saw something move across to the right; to the wide open space ahead. Firstly she thought it was a walker, then she realised that it was a buck. She hadn't seen an animal like that in a while, being honest she barely saw any animals anymore. Death scared the living whether they were animals or humans.

Shane then stepped forward with his shotgun raised. Food. Her stomach responded with a quiet growl before the thought came into her head that there was some beef jerky in her bag. Not right now, as it was completely inappropriate to start eating then as it wasn't some movie. What was happening was real, and she didn't want to interrupt it through such selfish thoughts.

"Shane." Rick whispered to his counterpart before he looked back and consequently lowered his shotgun. Carl was making his way towards the deer as it sniffed around the ground for a blade of grass or whatever it ate. It's head suddenly perked up as it saw Carl approaching. It was quiet, so quiet as the three sets of eyes watched as the boy approached the deer. He looked back, with reassuring nods from both males. Hope started to wonder who Shane was kidding.

In turn, he looked back at her, giving her a wolfish smile. A full smile that still hid something from her though. She responded with a smile of her own, something that he hadn't seen since the last time they'd met. It even seemed for a moment that her vacant eyes had some life in them.

_BANG._

The familiar sound of a gunshot brought her mind back to the day that she almost had been eaten. The shock of what was happening when someone just _came back to life, _the smell of death and the sickening murder of Mary and James O'Connell. She didn't even take into account that it had made her jump, the powerful noise again the serene forest. As she pulled herself into reality she saw the deer fall in a heap onto the forest floor before Carl also crumpled down to the earthy soil. She felt herself take a sharp intake of breath as she realised that everyone was in danger. She felt Lori's pain already, she felt Lori's anger towards her like she'd been insulted all over again.

"No, no no no!" Rick rushed forward followed by Shane. In turn Hope also followed with her gun raised in the direction of the shot being fired, passing the wounded Carl. Gunshot wound to the abdomen. She wasn't a medic but it didn't look good; she'd seen people dead with that sort of wound. She stayed next to Shane with her gun raised and lips pressed together ready for something to come through the forest before she was distracted by him. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw that he was holding his shotgun, but she'd never seen a man look so angry in the whole of her life.

_What sort of man had he become?_

* * *

><p><em>I am thoroughly excited to have <em>Miles Apart_ started back up again. My exams are over until May and so I have all that time to write. Hope, for me is the female character the show is lacking; a woman that is strong. This will follow season 2, but not entirely. There will be a lot of surprises and shocks and twists and rainbows and ponies (lol joking about the last two. Well maybe just the rainbows) which will hopefully have you engrossed in my crappy writing style! I am so happy with the positive response I've had, and __**all I can say is that if you review, I will continue**__. See you all soon!_

_~alice_


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